


Awww, Detroit... I Hate You

by NorthwesternInsanity



Category: Dokken, Music RPF
Genre: Awkward situations, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Hysterical Laughter, Icy Roads, crackfic, slashy if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 14:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16409798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthwesternInsanity/pseuds/NorthwesternInsanity
Summary: Don and Mick find more reasons to add to Dokken's list on why they don't like Detroit -at all -when they return a couple of years later. Treacherous roads, abused vehicles, icy parking lots, and a heck of a time trying to get out and away from the car!





	Awww, Detroit... I Hate You

"The only thing I asked was that we never came back here again. That was one of the few things we could agree on, and look where we still ended up," George complained. "You have to be difficult with everything."

Don glared at George through the rear view mirror as he steered the car, taking all his effort on even the smaller curves of the road thanks to the bulky coat wrapped around him and hindering his shoulders. Troublesome as it was, he'd decided there was no way in Hell he was taking it off, and while he ordinarily wouldn't have given second thought to breaking a minor road law when it was night and hardly anyone was around, the conditions made him think twice about taking his seatbelt off to give himself freedom of motion by other means.

"Do you really think I wanted to come back here either, George? Or that management was going to let me have a choice in the matter? _I tried_. If you want to call bullshit on that, next time I'll let you deal with them. And _then_ you tell me who you want to call difficult!"

_"Whoa,"_ warned Mick from the front passenger seat, holding up his hand beside Don.

Don's annoyance with George not only presented it with arguing, but often with a lead foot anytime he was behind the wheel of a car, and this time had been no different. 

It was hardly two seconds after Mick noticed that the speedometer had risen over a cautious twenty-five when the back tires slid on the icy highway road running through Detroit, and Don groaned quietly as he guided the steering wheel with the slide as he'd been instructed to keep it from fishtailing as they already had more than once.

This time, the back of the car only shook twice before righting itself, and before they continued again at a painful twenty miles per hour.

"Well, you're getting the hang of what to do at least," Jeff encouraged kindly from where he was huddled against George in the backseat. "If it makes you feel any better, I learned to drive in it, and I still do that."

"Yeah, he's getting better with at least not trying to kill us entirely," George cracked, ruffling Jeff's fringe.

Don sighed as the one little candle of hope that the whole world wasn't against him blew out with George's dig, and when Jeff promptly chortled at it.

"This is gonna take all night," he muttered under his breath.

He would have offered the driver's seat up happily -or in hopes of seeing George struggle to keep the car going in a straight line as much as he was, but knowing that everyone else in the car had some amount of cocaine in their systems made him decide that it wouldn't be any less stressful riding passenger.

The instructions to the hotel showed they only had three turns left. Granted, he didn't know how much distance was between those turns. He did know that the highway portion he was currently on was eight miles based on the mile-markers for the exit numbers, and even eight miles in California bumper-to-bumper start and stop traffic didn't seem as slow as eight miles at a steady crawl on ice felt to him now. He had even seen and passed the exit number that came before the one they needed to take; why was the gap between that one and the next so much longer?

His fingertips tingled, and he'd given up guessing whether it was from how cold it was, or because his fingers had gone an unnatural shade of white under his gloves from how tight he was gripping the steering wheel.

Likely both. The car was an icebox, because management hadn't thought to check if the heat was working in the rental car before choosing it for them.

Technically it did produce heat, but black clouds were coming out of the vents when the engine got running long enough to have a real effect on the temperature. Adding to the concern of the heater catching fire, it was disgusting.

Don had seen it first, because it was putting a faint, dark haze over the windshield, then Jeff and George made the question if the engine temperature gauge was normal, just to make sure nothing was on fire yet before they got on the highway. 

When Don announced that the engine temperature was still very low, Mick shouted: 

_"WHAT THE HELL IS COMING OUT OF THESE VENTS, COAL?!"_

The sour, tar-like smell that set in almost as soon as he said it prompted them close the vents and turn the heat off before they could find out, and they'd continued from that point forward with their coats and remaining body heat alone. If the slippery roads wouldn't eventually get them killed, Don was convinced the cold just might.

Finally, he saw the green rectangular sign on the side of the highway, indicating that their exit was coming up in a quarter mile. Having a number ensured that it would be the longest quarter mile he'd ever driven in his life. Nevertheless, there was not a sight more beautiful than that sign, until the one for the actual exit...

...which was a steep incline down, and still plenty slippery even though it had visibly been plowed and gritted enough that the pavement would be in shambles by the winter's end. Even keeping his foot off the brake -which he knew would only lock the wheels and make it worse -his attempt to idle down the ramp at a slow crawl turned into sliding down the ramp and trying with all his strength to keep the trajectory of the vehicle straight.

_This does it,_ thought Don as he recovered control at the bottom of the off-ramp. _Management can force us to perform here, but if they ever schedule us and the forecast makes them decide that we have to drive between hotels and venues because it's too icy for the bus, we postpone to a later date. We are NOT doing this again; I don't care about the rescheduling hassle._

Mick whooped. "Man, nothing like a slip and slide in a car to get your heart pumping!"

"I'll find that more amusing when we get to where we're going." Don pleaded internally for the street to turn on to end up close to the off-ramp.

"Hopefully in one piece," George cracked again, shivering and cuddling Jeff for warmth.

Don spent the remaining few minutes of the drive -which felt more like hours -thinking of how George had no idea how lucky he was that Mick had been sick last week. If they weren't already risking having it rebound on him by being where they were, Don would have cranked open his window and let icy air flood the car to shut George up. Even if he'd have frozen himself out, it'd have been worth it.

Unlike the last hotel, this one was on the outskirts of the city in hopes of being away from the worst of the night crime activity, and better conditions. It did look better from the outside than the last, but none of them dared to get their hopes up for what was inside until they got there.

George all but catapulted himself out of the backseat as soon as Don pulled into a parking space, snatching his overnight bag from where he'd tucked it under his feet.

"Come on, Jeff," he instructed, "let's get to our room and find out whether we can survive a night here now that we've survived getting this far!"

The two shuffled away from the car with a cautious sideways walk on the slush that coated the parking lot.

"It's not fair all we get is slush and refrozen ice this time," Jeff pouted. "This stuff is no fun."

He'd been hoping there would be some snow accumulation rather than piles of sharp ice that resulted from freezing rain and slush that had melted and refrozen over the course of the day. If he tried to throw any of what was lying around for fun with George, it would cut them both up. The only real snow was piled on the sides of the road from plowing and dark with dirt and ice-melt chemicals, and it was unpleasant to look at, let alone consider touching.

"I'm sure we'll encounter some place in the next few days that has something nicer," Mick tried as he shuffled from the front passenger side around to the back of the car to pull our his and Don's overnight luggage.

Flexing his cramped fingers inside his gloves, Don turned himself sideways in the driver's seat, sliding his legs over the side and out of the car door. He tried to push himself up to stand, but barely lifted up before his feet slid out from under him and he sat back down on the edge of the seat.

"Are you joking?" Sliding his toe on the ground around the driver's side front door told Don that there was no slush to try and get traction on, and that he was in position to have to get out on a patch of solid ice. The slush that was in front of the car door was blocked by the door no matter how wide or narrow he opened it.

"Great."

George nudged Jeff with his elbow. "Oh, this oughta be fun."

They were standing on the stoop of their room, which they had the key to, courtesy of management. However, they were now more focused on the sight before them than going inside, so Jeff unlocked the door and tucked their luggage along the wall before pulling the door shut and continuing to stand by George.

Don would have turned the car back on and moved parking spaces, but at that moment, he realized Mick was dragging the luggage up along the side of the car he was on with the ice.

"Mick, I wouldn't-"

Mick got about one stride away from the frame of the front door, and with a shout, he snatched the doorframe and held on tightly as his feet went in opposite directions.

Giggles floated across the parking lot as Jeff couldn't contain his amusement.

Don sighed, though he did have a visible smirk at the predicament Mick had gotten himself into.

"Alright." Keeping his knees bent and holding onto the edge of the seat tightly, Don slid himself out of the car facing backwards, planting his feet flat on the ice and trying to get a sense of stability. If he could keep himself steady long enough to close the door and shuffle around to the back of the car so that he could leave the parking lot as Jeff and George had, maybe he'd have a chance of making it there. The other option was squeezing around the door and shutting it once he was in front of it and on the slush. Both were going to require a lot of patience and small, painstaking motions. Considering where the luggage was in the way, going forward was looking to be easier.

Mick groaned in discomfort from beside the car. "Any ideas?"

"Mick," said Don from right next to him, leaning against the door frame, "just push the luggage back on the slush and we'll go around for it. If you come up and bend your knees, and we hold onto the car door and lean into each other, we might be able to help each other balance and get around it, okay?"

"Yeah, I got that." Mick struggled to pull his legs back together from the splayed position he'd ended up in and attempted to stand up.

"You're gonna have to let go of the car frame at the same time as I let go of the seat to make this work, otherwise one of us is gonna pull us both down. And we can't have it where one of us is leaning in harder than the other either."

"Got that too." Mick put his left arm over Don's shoulders to lean on, still holding the frame with his right hand. Don held the door with his left hand and prepared to let go of the seat.

"Alright, when we let go, you're gonna come over and put your free hand on the door too. Ready... set... let _go-"_

Don felt his heart leap to his throat as he felt his feet slip ever so slightly as he let go and straightened up to lean into Mick and counterbalance him. When he got his arm well around Mick's body too, the listing got worse as Mick tried to get around to grab hold of the car door.

"Mick, you _cannot_ lean that far into me; you have to push yourself up straighter, otherwise you're gonna make me slide, and when I do you're only going to fall if you're leaning that much.

Gritting his teeth, Mick grunted and tried to push more of his own weight steady with his knees, but found himself pushing further to the left too.

"Mick, stop. No-!"

Don fell against the car door. He tried to slide forward and get around it, but instead ended up falling inside with his chest across the driver's seat. Attempting to get up from there resulted in ramming his shoulder under the steering wheel with bruising force.

"Ow!"

A lower laugh came across the parking lot now. George.

Don growled. "Oh, and you'd think it was funny if it were you in this-!"

Mick tried to brace himself against the door as he fell into it with outstretched hands, but his feet slid backward, and he ended up falling face down on Don's legs, which were stretched straight out behind him, hanging out from the door.

"Really, Mick?"

With something that sounded like a muffled whine, Mick grabbed the edge of the seat and pulled himself up to lean further against the car, now with his head against Don's shoulders.

"Oh, sure, Mick. _Sure."_

Trapped with Mick on top of him, holding on for dear life, Don was helpless in the situation. There were only two responses that came to mind, and there wasn't enough space, nor stability to go postal and pitch a fit over it.

His body had already subconsciously chosen the other option before he could mentally commit to it. What started as a low, sarcastic snicker over how ridiculous the predicament was quickly turned real.

He felt trembling against himself, and sure enough, when he tried to look over his shoulder to see Mick, Mick broke and howled with hysterics.

"Don? How did we manage to get here like this?!"

Dropping his face against his arm, which was stretched in front of him so that he could cling to the console between the seats and not slide back out of the car, Don gasped for air.

"Don't ask me how. Ask yourself 'how'. I wasn't stuck like this until you came up beside the car and slid..."

He trailed off, feeling Mick shaking harder and knowing he was laughing too hard to hear. Everything he'd said hadn't even made it as far as going in one ear so that it could go out the other.

Thrusting his stomach muscles against the seat so that he could pull his knees in, Don tried to push on the ground with his toes so that he could get back to half-standing outside the car. Getting no traction at all, his feet flailed across the ice in place, until they slid and he got stuck with his legs fully extended again.

Mick was making the same frantic motion, only he was on top of Don, and both his legs and feet were between Don's. A high pitched shriek and a lower bellow of laughter rang out from the stoop two parking spaces down from them as Jeff and George succumbed to full-fledged hysterics.

A vague image worked its way into Don's head, and he felt everything except his frozen hands and nose turn hot, but the way Mick was flailing around was so hilariously pathetic, and it felt so good to not be completely frozen that he continued laughing anyway.

"How inappropriate do you think we look from the outside the car right now, Mick?" 

"S-stop, stop! I'm fucking _crying,"_ Mick wheezed, gripping on Don tighter with one hand as he reached the other up to drag across his eyes, which indeed had tears squeezing from the corners. "I c-can't... b-breathe!"

He tried to push himself up on his arms, but his toes slid, and he crashed back down on top of Don, who gave off a louder wheeze as the wind got knocked out of him.

"Neither can I," he squeaked. "Thanks a lot!" It sounded so ridiculous that he and Mick then lay limp across the seat on top of each other, too weak to try moving.

"Get _off_ me!" Don choked back tears as he laughed through coughing, trying to catch his breath and having double the disadvantage with Mick's weight squeezing his ribs.

Mick clung even tighter with one arm as he used his other hand to wipe away laughing tears again.

"I -oh...! I dunno what t-to _do,_ man! F-fuck it!"

"Mick, you'd better pull it together if you do anything, because with as cold as it is, those tears might just freeze to your cheeks, and then -actually, I'm not sure what we're gonna do about that either."

On the stoop, George took a step back and slipped on a ridge of refrozen slush on the surface. With nothing within his arm span to grab, he fell backward and sat down hard on the ice-coated concrete. Ordinarily he would have been embarrassed, and he would have had some choice words to say because he really could have stood to have more between his skin and bones on the lower half of his body. Between the stinging ice and the hard concrete, _damn, that hurt_. But he kept picturing Don having the same fate if he had gotten out of the car, and instead it just made him laugh harder in combination with the sight before him. Enough that he couldn't find the strength to stand up even if the cold snow was biting at his legs through his jeans. And the laughter behind him doubling in strength was too contagious for him to grasp at what little composure he had.

"Jeff, are you serious?" he teased, seeing the bassist clinging to the doorframe of their room, not far from ending up on the ground himself. He was laughing so hard that he shook his head, unable to speak.

They watched as Mick finally took the brave move of sliding himself out of the car. He ended up squatted beside it, helpless to move any further and clutching the door frame with one hand. George could see his feet sliding just a little bit further from the car as he tried to push up on his knees and unbend, which he knew wasn't going to work. If Mick's position were any lower, he'd be sitting on the ice. His one arm was so far stretched out that letting go would place him out of reach of the car.

"You might as well just give it up and put your ass on the ground, Mick! Take Don out with you!"

Jeff disappeared inside. Through his laughter, George managed to make out something about not wanting to find out how much harder he'd have to laugh before some problem, and then heard the bathroom door slam.

"You guys have Jeff laughing so hard he's worried he might fucking piss himself," George teased in a sing-song tone, not caring if Don made some remark about how childish it sounded.

Mick yelled as he twisted his body and slung his other arm around so that he got a hold on the bottom of the door frame with both hands, then reached one arm back up over Don.

"Come out here and help us out!"

"No!" shouted George as Mick ended up diving back into the car on top of Don. "That's what you two get for not helping us when we had a bed full of bullets and _blood!"_

Mick hooted with laughter again.

"Okay, I'll have to give it to him this once; he has a point," Don deadpanned, before cracking up again.

"If you're not gonna help us... Aw man, why don't you go inside with Jeff and leave us alone?" Mick whined.

"Because I'm back outside, and it's too funny _not_ to watch," called Jeff from the doorway.

Don reached a blind hand behind himself to nudge Mick and nearly knocked Mick off himself when he came within mere inches of poking him in the eye -and set George and Jeff off in unrestrained laughter again.

"Watch it!" gasped Mick.

"Alright, enough of this; we're not getting anywhere from this door, and I'm not trying that again," said Don. "Climb over me and over the front seat, and get out by the back of the car. Just try not to kick me, 'cause if you do, I'll kick your ass when we're inside."

Mick collapsed with his face against Don's shoulders again.

"Don't think I won't. I will!"

"You won't until we get inside, 'cause you wouldn't dare lift one foot out here to do it," Mick cried, slowly dragging himself over Don and over the seat, as he could manage with what little strength the hysteria hadn't stolen from him. "Oh, you crack me up, Don -I'm in pain!"

"You bet I won't lift a foot out here; I'm not stupid, and imagine the pain I'm in with you on top of me," Don snarked as sat up with a gasp of relief and pulled the front door shut. "Now, if you could help me get over the seat before you leave the car, I'd really appreciate it."

Mick was kind enough to stay seated in the back and hold his arms out for Don to pull himself over the console between the seats while he dealt with stiff arms and legs for the time he'd spent pinned in place. Carefully, they exited by the right, rear door, still holding on until they were sure the slush on the ground wasn't deceptively slippery after re-freezing. Even with the slush, they had to take cautious, sideways steps along the back of the car, and Mick nearly slipped again when he recovered their bags and turned to shuffle back around to the safer, right side of the car.

"Awww, Detroit," groaned Mick as they finally hauled their bags onto the stoop of their door. "Why do you have to do us like this every time?"

"Ugh, Detroit..." Don muttered as he unlocked the door and had to slam his body against it four times before it fell open and left him sprawled on the ground just inside because it was nearly frozen shut.

_All that work to not go down on the ice, and now this?!_

"Aww, Detroit," he repeated darkly. "...I hate you."

Mick snorted as he closed the door and dialed up the thermostat before helping Don up.

"That's alright, tomorrow, George is driving us out of here. We're gonna give this place the double-handed big salute when we drive off, and if it's still icy, he's gonna have trouble getting in the car!"

Mick couldn't help but feel a small feeling of pride and victory when he drifted off to sleep to Don trying to smother laughter in the dark over picturing George trying to get in the car in the morning. 

Perhaps there just was a silver lining to Detroit's unkind hospitality after all.


End file.
